


Healing

by Traveler



Category: Captain America (Movies), Surprise - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Clint, M/M, Steve takes care of Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4656825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traveler/pseuds/Traveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as he could feel the other man’s heartbeat where his hand rested on the chest hidden by the soft cotton blanket, his eyes were drawn to that very area watching it rise and fall with each breathe the other took. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, I make no money from it and do not own any of the characters mentioned within.

The soldier’s blue eyes swept the area; taking in the misty horizon, the waves crashing on the shore just past the dunes, sending sprays of white foam into the air above, the sea grass blowing in the brine heavy fall air with a hint of underlying chill to it – the weight of his lover in his arms offering comfort and reassurance that the other was still there.

Even as he could feel the other man’s heartbeat where his hand rested on the chest hidden by the soft cotton blanket, his eyes were drawn to that very area watching it rise and fall with each breathe the other took. His eyes roamed over what he could see of the younger man’s face and shoulders; taking in the mangled mass of purple-blue-green-yellow that was visible above the edge of the blanket and across his boyfriend’s face.

Mentally, he knew that his lover was healing, but the memory was still so fresh . . . Being in the midst of battle, hearing Hawkeye’s voice over the coms acting as spotter for the team, even as his arrows found their own marks. Throwing his shield in the midst of the chaos and reaching to catch it, even as he heard the distinctive hiss and sing of an RPG launching. Crying out Hawkeye’s name in warning, as the trajectory registered, and watching long enough to know that the other man had heard and had begun evasive maneuvers to abandon his nest, even as he caught his shield and turned back to the battle on the ground.

Later, as he’d sat next to Clint’s bed jotting notes down for his report while waiting for the other man to awaken; it’d been Natasha, who’d quietly cleared her throat and told him what had happened. Apparently, when he’d turned back to the battle, the RPG had struck, and Clint had been caught on the edge of the concussion from the explosion. It pushed him through the air, and into the side of a nearby building knocking him unconscious. The protectors Tony’d created and buried the team’s coms in had done their job, and miraculously Clint still had his hearing, although every joint in his body had suffered some sort of hyper extension type swelling and bruising.

Now, in the safety of their chosen hide-away on a quiet island off the coast of North Carolina, his lover’s weight anchoring him to the present, he allowed his mind to wonder, to think about the what ifs, to remind himself that they were alive. There was always a piece of him that had to look at the situations and play out the various outcomes to be prepared in case . . . IT happened, again. Yet, he could hear the conversation clear as if it were happening right then, when the man in his arms had reminded him that The Commandos had chosen their lives. They’d known the risks and had still followed his lead; had even quietly kept his and Bucky’s memory alive in the years following. It was okay to mourn, but they’d want him to live. Just as he’d want him to do, if something was to happen.

Looking down at the lover in his arms, head nestled against the white wife-beater covered chest, he couldn’t help but smile. He knew The Avengers weren’t The Howling Commandos, and never would be, but somehow he thought The Commandos would approve of the new team.

Turning his mind to the present, his reflection done, he mentally began to make a list of the things that he needed Jarvis to check on once the archer awoke. Hearing the sounds of movement from within the little house they were staying in, he tipped his head to listen more closely; turning his head fully towards the door when it opened. He watched as their third appeared; his long hair pulled back in a half ponytail secured with a leather thong, worn Henley, even more worn button fly jeans, and no shoes. He was holding two cups of coffee, even as arctic blue eyes swept the area insuring their continued safety, before moving further out onto the porch.

Automatically, his free hand reached for the second cup, even as he tilted his face up to the man for the gentle kiss he knew he’d receive. To the outside world the man was strong as steel; a mercenary, a fighter, a protector, a hitter, a retrieval specialist. But, like someone else he’d known and loved, to those who truly knew this man, they knew he was as gentle as could be to those he called family and friend. Willing to die to protect them.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the other man gently run his hand through the dirty blond hair; glancing up, arctic blue met patriotic blue eyes and the soft whisper carried on the breeze, “How is he?”

Clint stirred, mumbling, “Whaya, Eliot . . .”

Steve glanced down and watched as Eliot ran his hand through Clint’s hair, whispering it was okay, that he was there, and it was safe. He couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with the man, when Eliot pressed a kiss to their Hawk’s forehead, then leaned in and pressed a dry chased kiss to his lips. Pulling back just enough to whisper, “Ayastigi, rest. I have the watch.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Wahya - Cherokee for wolf (http://www.native-languages.org/cherokee_animals.htm)  
> *Ayastigi - Cherokee for warrior (http://www.ctc.volant.org/cherokee/Mirror/cohanna_wxyz.htm)
> 
>  
> 
> Author's notes: The image that presented itself to be written tried to take on multiple renditions; my hope is that I've managed to streamline those into one cohesive story for you, the readers.


End file.
